The Dress That Could Save My Eyesight

“Your father didn't die knowing the truth, Nia. He died trying to uncover it.””

Daniel Brooks's words followed me all the way out of the conference room.

I stood in the corridor of the Georgia Young Designers Showcase, clutching my portfolio so tightly that the cardboard edges dug into my palms. Behind me, judges were reviewing evidence that could determine whether I was allowed to compete. Somewhere in the building, Brianna was probably calling Vanessa, and Vanessa was undoubtedly trying to control a situation that had finally escaped her.

But I could think about only one thing.

My father's last meeting with Marcus Reed.

The man who had provided Brianna with a suspiciously similar design.

The man whose company had received hundreds of thousands of dollars from Carter Construction.

The man who might know why my father had been so concerned before his death.

I called Daniel.

He answered immediately.

“Have you read my email?””

“Yes. What happened at that meeting?””

“I don't know everything yet. I'm working to obtain the original records, but the evidence suggests your father was investigating financial transactions involving a company connected to Marcus.””

“Was Vanessa involved?””

“Her name appears in correspondence related to the company. That doesn't establish criminal wrongdoing, but it gives us reason to investigate.””

I pressed my free hand against my forehead.

“Daniel, Vanessa has been lying to me for years. She told me Dad left nothing for my medical treatment. She took my dress.

She tried to freeze my trust. And now she has somehow arranged for Marcus to accuse me of stealing my own design.””

“I understand why you're angry.””

“I'm not just angry. I'm frightened. What if there's something about Dad's death that nobody told me?””

Daniel paused.

“Then we will establish the facts. But I need you to be careful, Nia. Don't confront Marcus alone, and don't let anyone pressure you into signing anything.””

“I won't.””

“Good. I have arranged a meeting with an investigator who worked on your father's estate records. Can you come to my office this afternoon?””

I glanced toward the conference room.

“The competition hasn't finished reviewing my case.””

“Then finish what you need to do there first. Your work deserves a fair hearing.””

I thanked him and ended the call.

For a moment, I stood motionless.

Then I heard footsteps approaching.

Brianna appeared around the corner.

Her perfect makeup was beginning to crack, and her hands were clenched around her phone.

“Can we talk?””

I stared at her.

“About what?””

She glanced toward the conference room.

“Not here.””

“Why not? You had no problem telling everyone here that I stole your design.””

Her cheeks flushed.

“I didn't know it would become this serious.””

“You told people you designed my dress.””

“Mom said the design belonged to our family.””

I almost laughed.

“Our family?””

“You know what I mean.””

“No, Brianna. I really don't.””

She looked away.

For the first time in my life, my stepsister seemed unable to find the right words to make the world bend in her favor.

Finally, she whispered, “I didn't make the sketch.””

“I know.””

“Marcus gave it to me.””

“Why?””

She swallowed.

“He said it was an old design that had been sitting in some company files. Mom told me it would be perfect for the gala.””

I studied her face.

“Did you know it looked like my dress?””

“Not at first.””

“When did you realize?””

She looked down.

“When I saw your finished gown.””

“And you still wore it.””

Her eyes filled with angry tears.

“Do you know what it's like being compared to someone all the time?””

I stared at her.

“Compared to me?””

“Everyone says you're talented. Even Mom says you have a gift, although she pretends she doesn't care. People look at your work and act like you've accomplished something extraordinary.””

“I made a dress.””

“You made a dress everyone wants to talk about!””

Her voice rose.

“I spend thousands on clothes, and nobody remembers what I wear the next day. You put some crystals on silk, and suddenly you're special.””

For a moment, I saw the insecurity beneath her entitlement.

Then she ruined it.

“So I thought I deserved one thing that made people look at me.””

I shook my head.

“You didn't deserve my work, Brianna. You wanted it. Those are different things.””

She wiped her eyes.

“Mom said you'd never prove it was yours.””

“Why would she say that?””

“Because she said nobody would believe you over us.””

My stomach tightened.

“Did she know about the trust?””

Brianna went still.

That was answer enough.

“Brianna, did you know Dad left money for my treatment?””

She glanced down the corridor.

“Mom said there wasn't enough.””

“That's not what the records show.””

“I don't know anything about the records.””

“Then tell me what you do know.””

She pressed her lips together.

For several seconds, I thought she might finally tell me everything.

Instead, she took a step backward.

“I have to go.””

“Brianna—”

“I'm sorry about the dress.””

The apology was so quiet I barely heard it.

Then she turned and hurried away.

I watched her disappear.

It wasn't enough.

But it was the first time she had admitted that something she had done was wrong.

I returned to the conference room and handed Richard Hale a copy of the message from Daniel, along with the additional photographs and receipts.

The committee agreed to continue reviewing the evidence. They did not clear me immediately, but they allowed me to remain in the competition pending a final decision.

It was all I could ask for.

When I left the venue, Eleanor was waiting near the entrance.

“How did it go?””

“They haven't decided yet.””

She nodded.

“Then we keep going.””

I showed her Daniel's email.

Her expression grew serious.

“Are you sure you want to investigate this now? You have your medical treatment to arrange, and you need rest.””

I looked down at the portfolio in my hands.

“My father tried to protect me. I can't pretend I didn't find this.””

Eleanor studied me for a moment.

“Then we go one step at a time.””

Daniel's office was quieter than it had been that morning.

A man in his fifties sat beside the conference table, wearing a navy suit and carrying a battered leather briefcase. His name was Samuel Price, a forensic financial investigator who had helped review records connected to my father's estate.

He stood when I entered.

“Miss Carter, I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances.””

I sat across from him.

“Did you know my father?””

“Only professionally. I examined some of his company's financial records after his death.””

“What did you find?””

Samuel opened his briefcase.

“Several transfers that warranted further investigation. Some payments were recorded as property acquisitions, but the supporting documentation was incomplete.””

He placed copies of invoices on the table.

“These payments were made to Vantage Property Holdings. The company was incorporated shortly before the transactions began.””

I recognized the name.

“Marcus Reed's company.””

“Yes. The records identify Reed as a director. They also contain correspondence involving Vanessa.””

He turned to the next page.

“This email was sent by your stepmother three weeks before your father's death.””

I read the subject line again.

We need to settle Richard's concerns before he speaks to the board.

My hands grew cold.

“What did she mean?””

“We can't establish that from the email alone.””

“Did Dad confront them?””

Samuel nodded.

“According to the records, your father requested an urgent meeting with Marcus. We have evidence that the meeting took place the evening before his fatal car accident.””

I stopped breathing.

“Was it an accident?””

“The official investigation classified it as an accident. I'm not aware of evidence sufficient to challenge that finding.””

“Then why are we investigating?””

“Because the financial records suggest your father was trying to resolve a serious dispute, and some documents connected to that dispute were missing from the estate file.””

I looked at Daniel.

He nodded gravely.

“We're not alleging that the financial irregularities caused your father's death. We're trying to establish what happened to the documents and whether the estate was properly administered.””

Samuel slid another page toward me.

“This is a timeline of the transfers. One transaction occurred two days after your father's death. Another took place three weeks later.””

The second transaction carried Vanessa's authorization.

The amount was $175,000.

My fingers trembled.

“Was this money from my trust?””

“Not according to this particular statement. It came from a Carter Construction account. We are still examining the relationship between the company funds and the trust withdrawals.””

I leaned back.

There were so many numbers, so many accounts, so many signatures.

I had spent months worrying about a few hundred dollars for my eye drops while other people moved amounts of money I could barely comprehend.

“Can you prove Vanessa stole from me?””

Samuel shook his head.

“Not yet. We have evidence of disputed withdrawals and a questionable authorization. We need original records, corroboration, and a proper examination of the relevant accounts.””

Daniel leaned forward.

“But there is another development.””

He removed a small sealed envelope from a folder.

“This was found among the documents transferred to our office after your father's death. It was mistakenly filed with correspondence relating to the construction company.””

My heart began to pound.

The envelope bore my father's handwriting.

*For Nia — if the first letter is not enough.*

I reached for it.

Daniel stopped me gently.

“Before you open it, I need to explain that the contents may be difficult to read. Your father wrote it during the final week of his life.””

I swallowed.

“Please.””

He handed me the envelope.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

My darling Nia,

If you are reading this, then I was unable to resolve the problems surrounding the company before my death.

I have discovered that money is being moved through accounts that do not appear in the company's regular reports. I have also learned that someone has been using my signature to authorize transactions I did not approve.

My breath caught.

I read the next lines.

I cannot yet prove who is responsible. I suspect Marcus knows more than he has admitted. I am also concerned that Vanessa has been given information that she does not understand—or that she understands all too well.

I looked up.

Daniel said nothing.

I continued.

I have arranged for the original accounting records to be stored outside the company offices. If those records disappear, contact Samuel Price. He knows where to begin looking.

My eyes filled with tears.

The final paragraph was written in hurried, uneven handwriting.

Whatever happens, do not let anyone convince you that you must surrender your future to preserve the family's reputation. The truth matters, Nia. So does your life.

I pressed the letter against my chest.

For years, I had thought my father had left me alone in a world where everyone else had the power to decide my future.

Now I understood that he had tried to give me something more important than money.

He had tried to give me the ability to stand on my own.

Daniel waited until I lowered the letter.

“Samuel is going to follow the reference to the original accounting records. We also need to determine whether anyone has attempted to interfere with the trust administrator.””

I nodded.

Then I asked the question that had been haunting me.

“Why would Vanessa want me to remain dependent on her?””

Samuel exchanged a glance with Daniel.

“That's something we cannot answer without further evidence.””

I looked down at my father's handwriting.

But I had a suspicion.

If I remained poor, frightened, and uncertain, I would never ask questions about money I believed no longer existed.

I would never search my father's study.

I would never discover the trust.

And I would never find the letters.

My phone vibrated.

An email from Olivia Grant.

I opened it.

The subject line read:

*SHOWCASE DECISION — URGENT*

My heart hammered as I read.

The committee had completed its preliminary review of the evidence.

My eligibility had been restored.

I was officially cleared to present my design portfolio in the final round.

I covered my mouth.

Eleanor, who had accompanied me to Daniel's office, leaned over my shoulder.

“You're through?””

I nodded, tears spilling down my cheeks.

“I'm through.””

For the first time since Vanessa had taken my gown, I felt something like victory.

But the email contained one additional paragraph.

The committee has also received a request from a representative of Vantage Property Holdings seeking access to the design materials submitted in your entry. We have declined that request pending clarification of the representative's authority.

I stared at the screen.

Why would Marcus Reed's company want access to my fashion portfolio?

My father's letter had mentioned original accounting records.

Brianna's disputed sketch had come from Marcus.

And now his company was asking to examine my work.

Daniel took the phone from my hand and read the message.

His expression darkened.

“Nia, I think we need to find out exactly where Marcus obtained that sketch.””

“Why?””

“Because if the company has been holding documents connected to your father's work, there may be a reason he recognized your design.””

I looked at the photographs spread across the table.

The blue waves.